


Skwisgaar and Toki Make a Porno.

by absolut_svensk



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolut_svensk/pseuds/absolut_svensk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sex tapes ams always good for de careers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skwisgaar and Toki Make a Porno.

**Author's Note:**

> I have good news and bad news.
> 
> The bad news is that this is completely, 100% gratuitous CRACK. I was planning on writing an actual serious sex scene and then realized that about 98% of the time, I can't take myself seriously when I do that. So please don't take this seriously AT ALL, because I sure didn't.
> 
> But here's the good news:  
> I'm saaaahhhrrryyyyy.

‘Ams you sure this ams a goods ideas?’ 

One very nervous (and _very_ naked) Toki Wartooth perches on the edge of Murderface’s bed, having been promised that the bassist is _most definitely out of town until the weekend_ , and surrounded by a various array of things he’s never seen before. Skwisgaar keeps referring to them as ‘toys,’ and Toki’s starting to get the feeling that that word doesn’t mean what Skwisgaar thinks it means. 

Skwisgaar struts around the room with an air of purpose, his chin held high, shoulders rolled back, and in spite of himself, Toki giggles a little. He looks so ridiculous, posturing like the head rooster in the chicken coop. Who would’ve thunk he could walk in heels that are literally bigger than his dick? Vaguely, Toki remembers the conversation they’d had about those Christian Louboutin boots. He hadn’t been sure why Skwisgaar was interested in ladies’ footwear.

(Well. The more you know.)

‘Sex tapes ams _always_ goods for de careers, Tokis,’ Skwisgaar advises, ducking behind the camcorder he’s set up near the bed and readjusting the angle for the millionth time. ‘Hows else does a talentless persons becomes famous?'  

Toki picks up a funny-looking thing that looks kind of like a flyswatter for really big flies and waves it around absentmindedly. ‘You ain'ts talentsless!’

‘Wasn’ts talkingks about mes,’ comes the flat response.

‘...Oh.’ 

‘You knows what you ams gettingks into, rights?’ 

‘Ja! You saids we was gonna plays a funs games while we fucks! ...And dat it mights bes a littles roughers dan some of de other fun games we ams has playeds while we fucks.’

(They’ve played a lot of fun games while they fucked in the past. Probably the funnest one was when they discovered Toki doesn’t have a gag reflex. At all. _That_ game involved some really creative sex positions--and some genuine surprise on Skwisgaar’s part to see that his innocent lover wasn’t quite as innocent as he’d previously thought.)

Skwisgaar pauses for a moment, giving Toki a scrutinizing look. ‘You remembers de safe gestures?’

Toki nods earnestly. 

‘And you won’ts forgets its?’

(A shake of his head.)

‘And you’lls does it if yous hurts real bads or wants to stop for any reasons?’

(A nod.) 

‘...Okays.’

Skwisgaar, being a theatrical creature by nature, has an innate flair for the dramatic. Being quite a kinky creature also, he couldn’t resist utilizing Murderface’s room (and implementing some of his medieval torture devices) for a little bit of good, wholesome fun. After all, what Murderface doesn’t know won’t hurt him--and there’s no reason for him to find out precisely what Skwisgaar and Toki have in mind for his genuine restored pillory, a true English classic. 

Skwisgaar gives the lighting one last look and nods in approval, having decided the candelabra and wall-torches set an appropriate mood for what’s about to transpire. ‘All rights, Tokis,’ he says at long last, eight-inch heels clacking over the stone floors, ‘let’s gets you sets ups.’

Murderface’s pillory, Toki just so happens to know, is his third-favorite torture device, behind his rack and his iron maiden--which probably explains why it very nearly takes center stage in his room. Skwisgaar’s artfully angled the camera catty-corner to it, giving a lovely mostly-side view with _just_ enough of the front. (Don’t worry, Skwisgaar had promised, I’ll even show your dumb dildo face.)

Dutifully, Toki ambles over to the pillory, naked as the day he was born, and waits patiently while Skwisgaar locks him in; once fastened securely in place (and gagged--the Norwegian doth protest too much), he flaps his hands around a little, earning him a chastisement from Skwisgaar.

(Glorious, glorious Skwisgaar. In thigh-high women’s boots and a leather speedo that barely holds his junk in place. God bless him. Toki watches every step he takes back towards the camera, blinks as the red light comes on with a little click.)

‘Hi! I ams Skwisgaar Skwigelf, and dis ams de _Advanced BDSM Sex Master Class_. Today, I ams goingks to dems-kon-strates a few funs techniques dat, uh... dat yous ands your loversk can use.’

It must be said here that Skwisgaar Skwigelf is a man who makes assumptions. Of particular importance to note is that he assumes most other individuals possess a level of sexual knowledge similar to his. Which is why, sans explanation, he saunters over to Toki, picking up the fly-swatter-looking-thing and a cock ring as he goes. At the sight of the latter, Toki’s dick gives an excited twitch; he’s always been quite the sadomasochist in the bedroom, and while he loves switching up their roles just as much as Skwisgaar does, he has to admit--for something as technical as this, Skwisgaar’s the better one to do the teaching.

\--Not that Skwisgaar would ever let Toki top him in a porno, that’s their dirty little secret and is reserved for shower sex.

And hot tub sex.

And mile-high sex.

And dressing room sex.

And sex in the kitchen when nobody’s looking.

And sex in the--

\--He jerks out of his reverie in just enough time to watch Skwisgaar shimmy out of that tiny little leather number he’s wearing, and the sight of him in all his naked, pale glory is enough to make Toki’s cock go from half-staff to full mast. 

‘A goods tops takes into acks-counts boths his owns needs and dems of his partners.... You cans use, a, uh... yous cans use a codes words... sos dat you cans does more funs stuffs... and if dey wants to stops... dey just says de codes words... or does de gesturesk.’

Toki’s just about to mumble something in agreement (which comes out muffled and incomprehensible around the ball gag) when he feels the cool slick of lube on his cock. (Ah... already he’s a bit weak in the knees. Goddamn, but Skwisgaar’s hands are sublime; the calluses provide juuuust enough friction.) 

‘We ams has, uh... a gesturesk. Because hes... hes has a gags... bes-cause he... he can’ts talk untils... I... untils I says sos.’

Skwisgaar’s always been a piss-poor teacher, and even when it comes to something he’s so adept at (like fucking anything with a pulse and an adequate orifice for penetration) he still can’t seem to explain his methodology and technique enough that the average Joe could figure it out for himself. Presently, he’s far too busy slicking his dick (and Toki’s, prior to the placement of the cock ring) with lube to even look at the camera, let alone address it properly and provide true insight into whatever the hell it is that this porno’s supposed to be teaching, anyways.

‘Dis little things means... he has tos waits to cums... and den I sticks my dicks in.’

On goes the cock ring--and in go Skwisgaar’s index and middle fingers. At least he’s got the common fucking courtesy to prep a man before penetrating him, and for that, Toki’s infinitely grateful. There’s not much of a preparatory period, but it’ll do, and once Skwisgaar slips it in, Toki gives an absolutely delighted moan of approval.

_Smack._ ‘Don’ts bes so louds unless I says you cans bes.’

(Oh. So _that’s_ what the oversized flyswatter-thing is for. 

...Very nice.)  

Skwisgaar half-faces the camera, looking bored; he positively towers over Toki in those ridiculous boots and has to help him angle his hips right to get a good angle on him. (But wowee, can Skwisgaar find a good angle.)

‘--And den you fucks.’

And fuck they do. Fucking is the thing Skwisgaar’s best at (other than guitar), and Toki likes to think that he and Skwisgaar compliment each other in the bedroom the same way they do in the recording booth. Just like when they play music together, their fucking has an innate and beautiful rhythm, and it feels better than damn near anything else in the world. 

\--Toki’s so busy bucking his hips back against Skwisgaar, rattling the pillory and its stand with the force of his movements and savoring the way Skwisgaar’s sweat drips down onto his back and rolls off his sides, that he doesn’t hear the door open, nor does he see Murderface standing there, sporting a tan and holding a monstrous soda and bucket of chicken from Burzum’s.

_‘_ ‘What the fuck are you guysch doing in my room?’ There’s a moment of realization, and then Murderface’s jaw drops in absolute horror. ‘ ** _ARE YOU... FUCKING?!’_**  

Skwisgaar stops mid-thrust and stares up at Murderface like a deer in headlights, and when Toki feels him stop moving, he, too, looks up, his eyes going wide with dismay.

Oh, sweet Lucifer.

Oh, Jesus, Joseph, and doggy-style Mary.

They’ve been caught.

What ensues is an almost pathetic skittering about, with Skwisgaar quickly undoing the latches on the pillory, followed by an every-man-for-himself scramble. During the kerfuffle, the camera gets knocked over, and amidst a cacophony of shouting, thrown sodas, and chicken bones, Skwisgaar and Toki flee in opposite directions down the hallway, hands cupped over their crotches. 

(The tape makes it to the internet, and a week later the _Dethklok Minute_ reports that Skwisgaar Skwigelf has singlehandedly reinvented pornography.)


End file.
